Annabelle & Bridget, Part Eleven

“W-what?” I stammered.

I’m not sure what I expected, but it definitely wasn’t that.

“An orgasm,” Annabelle repeated, “Come on, Mere. You’re way too old to be scared of words like that. And as a lesbian, you should know that it’s selfish to just take.”

“Mm hmm,” Bridget hummed. Her lips were still intimately close to my ear as she massaged my shoulders, “You’re supposed to reciprocate. That’s what good girls do. Did Annabelle get you off?”

It was a lot, all at once. For starters, I wasn’t actually a lesbian, though I had reluctantly said ‘yes’ to the notion when recently asked. Before I could try to remember what had compelled me to lie about my sexuality, I was being hit with Bridget’s daunting question. Was she being rhetorical, or did she not know until right now? Between my time in the cage and my time in the kitchen, I really had no idea how much or how little Annabelle had shared with her.

“Ms. Bridget asked you a question, Mere,” Annabelle said.

Whether Bridget already knew or not, I had to answer. “Yes,” I mumbled, averting my gaze. Annabelle was right. While I didn’t consider myself a prude by any means, I didn’t really talk about stuff like this with other girls. It’s not that I was scared of the word ‘orgasm;’ I just wasn’t used to hearing it out loud. Bridget’s phrase was more tolerable for some reason, though it didn’t change the fact that I was . . . well, not straight. Bisexual, based on my recent experiences and confusing attractions.

Bridget’s hands went still. “Yes, Ms. Bridget,” she corrected me, “Did Ms. Annabelle get you off?”

I was too distracted by everything else to notice that she had slightly adjusted her question to play along with the titles Annabelle was going with. As for Bridget’s question, there was nothing black and white about it. “Yes, Ms. Bridget,” I hesitantly said. Annabelle had gotten me off, and it had been better than any male I had been with. Better than my own fingers, honestly, even though I should theoretically know my body best.

She began massaging me again. “How? With her fingers? With her mouth? Both?”

My lips parted in surprise. That was- I couldn’t- How could she be asking such a personal question?! Intimacy was supposed to be, well, intimate. Even when it was with a girl who was too young for me, while tangled up in a subservient role where I was somehow her pet, her maid, and her tutor all at once.

Then again, this was Ms. ‘Clothes-Are-A-Construct.’ She probably didn’t mind blatantly talking about physicality with another girl. Meanwhile, Bridget had always been the overt type. I had only been worried about keeping Bridget from getting a lucrative job; it wasn’t until right now that I started thinking about them clicking in a less professional sense

It was probably the shock of the question that made the answer tumble out of my mouth before I could think better of it. “Her, umm . . . Her fingers.” I couldn’t believe I just said that! That kind of honesty, even when coerced, set a precedent that would be difficult to get away from moving forward.

“Okay,” Bridget said. She sounded way more calm and nonchalant about all of this than I did. “Then you have to finger Ms. Annabelle. Or, if you prefer, you can go down on her. As a lesbian pet, you should always give more than you take.”

Even when all of this was casually being explained to me, it felt like I was being thrown in the deep end. I was still getting used to the ‘lesbian’ label, which my silence continued to affirm. ‘Lesbian pet,’ however, simply and effectively tied my experiences with Annabelle together. In a daunting way. “I’m- I’m not-” I protested, barely louder than a whisper.

How many times had I said out loud that I was Annabelle’s obedient pet, and proved my obedience to her on top of that? There had always been a justification for it along the way, though it didn’t change the fact that I had done as I was told time and time again. I was still collared, and the back of my hand still stated those words in bold. If anything, it was the sexually charged nature of Bridget’s little phrase that was giving me pause. That, and her presence in general.

“You are,” Bridget quietly insisted, after it was clear I had no idea how to defend against her latest words, “Choose, Mere. Do you want to fuck Ms. Annabelle with your fingers? Or your mouth?”

As my cheeks continued to radiate heat, and I was once again rendered speechless by such a crass and direct question, Annabelle slowly stood up from where she had been lounging on the sofa and idly touching herself throughout all this. Without a word, she gripped the thin straps of her dress and slid them off her shoulders. Stripping herself this time, rather than having me do it for her, she made short work of pulling the little black dress down far enough that gravity could take over.

Standing there in her dark lingerie, confident as ever due to both her amazing body and her philosophy about clothes (or lack thereof), she said, “Ms. Bridget asked you a question, pet.”

Annabelle had way more of an effect on me than Bridget did. I was too flustered by both her exposure and my own to think about how the either/or being posed to me was a fairly blatant illusion of choice, as well as how the word ‘want’ would make it sound when I answered. As for the options, there was really only one that I could go with. I was way too new at the whole girl/girl thing to consider exploring the more daunting of the two. Especially when Bridget would be watching the whole time. If it were just Annabelle . . . No, of course not. She was eighteen; and I wasn’t that into girls!

Stalling too long wouldn’t be confident or brave, which I was still trying to be despite how small and submissive I felt between Annabelle and Bridget. “With my fingers,” I muttered. All the while, I did my best to meet Annabelle’s eyes. Better than awkwardly looking down or away like I had been doing a bit, or being caught staring at Annabelle’s cleavage.

Bridget huffed an annoyed sigh into my ear. “The whole thing, Mere.”

Annabelle nodded. “What do you want to do to me, pet?”

I still wasn’t acclimated to the degrading title. Yes, I was locked in a collar. Yes, the phrase ‘obedient pet’ was being said more frequently by both myself and the two girls. It was just different when it started taking on life beyond that, considering I also wasn’t used to being a lesbian or having a dynamic like this with a girl(s).

On top of that, there was the matter of what I was now expected to say out loud. However I had been blushing before must have paled in comparison to how they looked now. I could feel my cheeks burning as I nervously said, “I want to- umm, I want to fuck Ms. Annabelle . . . ” I couldn’t believe I just said that! The only reason I kept going was because it would actually sound worse if I stopped after only making it that far. “ . . . with my fingers.”

“Good girl,” Annabelle said, “Well? No time like the present.”